Castle: Single Shots
by KroganVanguard
Summary: Castle drabbles or oneshots that weave in and around the series.
1. Lazy Saturday Mornings

_Anon prompted: Beckett wears Castle's clothes for the first time_

* * *

She senses he's gone as soon as she wakes up. She misses his warmth, his scent, the way his broad biceps curl protectively over her. The sunlight streaming in through the window in his bedroom means she's slept in, though the guilt is assuaged slightly by the overwhelming sense of relaxation that runs through her. Two weekends off in a row is a precious, precious blessing from the schedule gods, and though their trip to the Hamptons last weekend on the first one had been fun and exciting, a murder in Castle's backyard hadn't exactly allowed her to switch off from work. Maybe this weekend.

She skips out on wearing her own clothes (she brought a change over with her last night…and is tempted to leave it here for future use. It's time, isn't it?), and instead picks out a faded black t-shirt with a Derek Storm graphic on it, and a pair of his silk Thomas Nash boxers. He was right. They were amazingly comfortable. She might just have to steal both of these for the future. Especially the shirt, which he's clearly worn for years and is steeped in his essence. If she's cherries, he's leather and mahogany, a hint of honey and wood-smoke. It's all she can do not gather the shirt to her nose and sniff like a lunatic.

Instead she pads out in search of him, eager to see the expression on his face when realises she's appropriated his clothes.

"Castle?"

"In here." He calls out from his study, and now she can hear the insistent tapping of keys on his laptops, the pace evidently furious. She almost doesn't want to distract him, but she can't wait either.

She walks up and leans against the doorway, waiting for him to look up. He does a second later, and the reaction is all she hoped for. Gorgeous blue eyes traverse up her long lean legs, glazing over by the moment. The shirt is far too big and shapeless on her to be sexy, but one side of the neck slides of to one side, exposing her shoulder and the lines of her neck. She bites her lips, warmth flushing her cheeks as his mouth hangs open till his eyes lock with hers, full of love and wonderment and sheer physical lust too. Just what she'd hoped to see. What she'd never get tired of seeing.

In an instant, he's up and walking towards and her breath hitches slightly as his eyes grow hooded, arms encircling her, trapping her between his broad frame and doorway, his mouth plunging down as she leans up to meet him, one of her hands encircling his torso, the other on his face, drawing him to herself.

She doesn't know how long they spend making out like hormonal teenagers, but she loves it. Loves the feeling of him flush up against her body, his knee parting her legs, lost in the moment till they both withdraw simultaneously, out of breath and wickedly turned on.

"Now that's just not fair, Beckett." He tugs at his shirt.

"Who said I was playing fair?" She nibbles along the edge of his jawline, hands comfortably resting against the small of his back. "Does it mean I can keep the shirt?"

"You can wear any of my clothes you like…as long as you wear them here." He's no slouch, this quick-witted, whip-smart writer that she has fallen for.

"Guess I'll just have to start hanging around more often then." Her smile slips out before she can stop it at thought, the prospect of spending more time here, time with him. Time like this, lazy Saturday mornings, with coffee and attacking the crossword together, and her doing yoga while he lifts and slipping out for a walk in the sunshine, hand in hand…

"Guess so." His smile is just as broad and warm in return, eyes twinkling at the prospect.

She slips out from the encirclement of his arms, not quite ready to let him see what that tacit conversation had meant to her, walking towards the kitchen with an extra bounce in her step.

"Go back to work, Castle." She waves airily. "I'll bring you a coffee."

* * *

_I wrote a few Caskett drabbles I've been meaning to post on here. Some prompted, others not. _


	2. Through Gates's Eyes

_Anon prompted: How did Gates know about Caskett? _

* * *

Victoria Gates knows she has a bit of a reputation. As a martinet. A hardass. Even a bitch. She has no problems with that, since she has cultivated it. Becoming a precinct captain in the NYPD as a black woman, twice a minority, has been a hard cliff to scale. She's had to be better than good every step of the way, better than her peers, more capable at politics. Excellent at reading people, at guiding them to conclusions she wants them to arrive at. The thing people often forget about her, especially these days now that she's running a precinct, is that she's a damn good detective. She doesn't mind, in a way, being underestimated. It allows her that crucial element of surprise in many a situation.

Her new team is guilty of the same old failing. Too used to Roy Montgomery, his wit and his charm and his light touch. All her old IA instincts scream that something is a little off about how Beckett, Esposito, Ryan and the others rally around his name, screen her from asking questions about him. Their loyalty is admirable, if somewhat blind. No matter. He is dead, and secrets rarely stay buried for long. She will try and shield them from the fallout when it all comes out.

She's too old-school, too thin-blue-line to get behind Castle's involvement in her turf easily, but begrudgingly she can see why Montgomery allowed him to stay. Managing a police precinct is about managing personalities as much as it is about paperwork, and she can see what he brings to the table, the way he thinks outside the box, tries to connect the dots that lead the rest of the team to the perpetrator. It's hard to acknowledge an outsider can help so much, but she can't resist the sheer weight of numbers, the cases they close and people they put behind bars.

Mostly she can see how he makes Beckett tick, and vice versa. Together they are vastly more than the sum of their parts, and Beckett was no slouch as a detective to begin with. In her first year at the 12th, she could sense the tension there, the way he looked at her and his eyes lit up, the way he never failed to bring her a coffee when she needed it…often before she knew she needed it. They way an unconscious smile danced over her lips when he looked away, the way she stepped ever closer into his personal space with no reason to, just to be near him. She can also cut the tension between them with a knife, if she wanted to, the magnetic force that draws them together…and yet they can't take that last step to be together. Frankly her precinct is better than the ridiculous reality TV shows she likes to unwind with, a glass of red in her hand, at the end of a tough day at the office.

That changes in the second year, after Beckett comes back from her suspension. Small things fall into place, like pieces of a puzzle. The way that Beckett laughs more, some tension inside her eased. The way Castle will sometimes brush her hands, or the small of her back for no reason. The way they'll arrive or depart from the station within moments of each other on certain days of the week. The look on Beckett's face when they have to arrest Castle during that Tyson nonsense. Gates has seen that fear, that desperation, that love before. It cannot be hidden, and it cannot be faked. Messing with Castle's head on Valentine's Day (how the hell had that idiot managed to put Beckett's present in her coat anyway?) is just the icing on the cake. She hopes he doesn't get into too much trouble at home but she just can't resist twitting his nose. Especially after that Gemini dolls fiasco.

Her heart breaks for him when his daughter is kidnapped, but any last doubts about their relationship is laid to rest when Beckett embraces him without hesitation, without fear of consequences. There is a boundary that can only be crossed by lovers, not just partners or friends. In the aftermath, really, she is glad for them. Beckett has clearly had to navigate some stormy seas (which reminds her, she needs to follow up with an old friend at the Justice department about Bracken…something in that interrogation room had been all too real, no matter how much Castle had tried to convince her otherwise), and Castle acts as her anchor, her compass and her north star, all at once sometimes. In turn she can see how Beckett grounds Castle, brings out his inner depths and shows the world that the manchild he pretends to be is just that, a pretence…mostly. They're good for each other, and it makes her happy that they've managed to discover that while at her precinct. Gates is pretty sure they haven't snuck into a maintenance closet for a make-out session either, so it's not really an issue to let them keep working together. Helping Becket t out with his surprise party is hardly onerous, and watching her detective's nerves flutter just reminds of her the own romance while at IA, when Andrew would send her flowers on random days, or come meet her after shift, even if it was late at night or early in the morning.

She can't keep it hidden any more after the bomb incident though. That's as close as she's come to losing a part of her team since she joined the 12th, and it was with desperation and tears in the corner of her eyes that she watched the seconds tick down on her phone, alone in her office. Castle had somehow managed to pull one last trick out of the book once again, and in the aftermath, even she's not cruel enough to deny them the kiss they are desperate for.

Gates smiles as she walks away with Ryan and Esposito. She hopes she'll be invited to the wedding.


	3. Helping Out At The 12th

_Anonymous prompt: Gates asks Castle to keep helping out at the 12th when Beckett goes to DC._

* * *

"Yo, Castle." Espo hurried out of the break room to catch him, spilling a couple of drops of coffee on the floor in the process. "Wait up, bro."

He stopped in turn, brown cardboard box still in hand, returning the greeting with a smile and a nod.

"Whatchu doing here man? Figured with Beckett gone, we wouldn't see your ugly mug haunting us anymore. Or at least, you haven't been around much." Espo raised an meaningful eyebrow as he came to a stop in front of him.

"Actually, I've been up in DC the last couple of weeks, helping Beckett move into her new place, set up all the furniture and stuff. Just got back last night. Came back to pick up some papers she'd left behind." He shrugged, holding up the box in his hands.

"How is she settling in?"

"Oh you know Beckett, chomping at the bit to get to work." He made himself mute any concern he had. He might be worried about his fiancee's workaholic nature resurfacing while she was away on her own in DC, but this was hardly the time or the place to voice any such concerns. "What about you guys, any cool cases?"

"Oh yeah, a real freaky one. Dude strangled in a sex club dungeon. You would've loved it. We just caught the perp yesterday. Ex-boyfriend-slash-stalker." Espo shook his head, a little in disbelief it seemed like. Must've been quite the case to draw such a reaction from him. "Mighta solved it quicker if you and Beckett had been doing your psychic-foreplay-case-solving thing like you used to, mind. Or might not."

"We didn't- we don't- it's not…'" He lets his voice peter out, the grin on Espo's face not worth arguing against. "And how's Ryan?"

"Baby crazy. Off at the doctor with Jenny right now. I miss Beckett's ability to calm him down, if nothing else."

"I hear you."

"So…what's the plan? You gonna stick around in NYC?"

"That's the plan for the moment, with plenty of weekends and the occasional week or two up in DC. At least in the short-term…"

"Well, we're gonna miss around here bro. Unless you wanna keep coming back with your girlfriend gone?"

"Well, you're not quite as pretty Espo, but the last time I was here without her…I got thrown out on my ass, remember?" He nods in the direction of Gates's office, blinds shuttered, door shut. She had shown up briefly at Beckett's going-away drinks, offered her congratulations on the job and their engagement congenially enough, but he hadn't heard from her since. Thankfully.

"Mr. Castle!"

"…and speak of the devil." Espo gave him a quick nod and walked away, leaving Castle to face the music.

"Captain Gates." He turned and walked towards as she stood in the doorway of her office, eyes narrowed at him over those stern black glasses.

"A word if you please, in my office."

"Of course." He never could quite shake the feeling that stepping into Gates's office was like being sent to the principal for being naughty, and that a scolding was due.

"Take a seat." She sat down herself, removing the glasses, losing a little of the schoolmarm steel.

"Thank you."

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Oh just picking up some personal papers for Beckett."

"Indeed. And how is she settling in amongst the circling sharks at the federal level?"

"Still finding her feet, but you know Beckett. She'll be up and running in no time."

"And you, Mr. Castle? What your plans with the…special relationship with my former detective no longer holding you here at the 12th?" She's almost a little hesitant, a little diffident as she asks, polishing the frames of her glasses. He doesn't know if he's ever seen that in her behaviour before.

"…I don't know, honestly, sir. Between the move and the engagement and everything being a whirlwind, I haven't had a lot of time to think about that." He shrugs sincerely, blue eyes solemn.

"Well, a detective the calibre of Beckett's is a big loss for us here. I'm not even sure when we'll get a replacement. Could be weeks, or months, with Homicide here understaffed. Resources are stretched everywhere."

He doesn't say anything, just makes a soothing murmur, encouraging her to go on.

"And despite the unorthodox nature of your presence here, I'm forced to admit you were indeed an asset to the team. It is difficult to argue against the number of cases that were solved with your direct involvement."

"I was happy to help. And of course, the research…" He isn't stupid. No hint of the smile he is feeling on the inside is allowed on his face, not even to ghost over his lips. He settles for deliberately relaxing his shoulder, letting his body language speak of confidence.

"Yes. I'm sure." She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself to eat something that will taste unpleasant but will have to be eaten nonetheless. "I would like to invite you to keep consulting with the Homicide division here at the 12th Precinct, liaising directly with your old team of Detectives Ryan and Esposito. Would you be interested, Mr. Castle?"

"I would be honoured to keep helping out the NYPD, Captain. While continuing my research, of course."

"Of course. Who knows, maybe without you and Beckett mooning around each other like lovesick teenagers, you might even find yourself more effective." She can't quite stop the waspish statement, he can tell, but he doesn't mind, letting the barb go. It's a huge change from the last time she unceremoniously threw himself out on his ear, and he luxuriates in the feeling of being wanted. Needed. It's nice.

"Maybe, Captain." He gets up to go, briefly shaking hands with her in the process. "See you tomorrow."


	4. Bulwark

_I wasn't happy with 'Dreamworld', so I wrote in some AU scenes._

* * *

"I'm alright." He cuts her off before she can say anything, but the creeping hint of tiredness in his voice, in his eyes, give lie to the words. Their talks with Parker and Secretary Reid had only lead to more questions, not answers.

His phone cuts in, interrupting the thick silence between them, the weight of the Federal agency building they are in pressing down on them like a bunker. She doesn't know what to do, beyond the fact she must find the antidote. But he needs her too. He needs her support. He needs to allay the desperation that must be creeping up on him, the ice slowly crawling up his spine as he confronts his mortality.

She knows that feeling, knows it all too well standing for hours on an end on a bomb that hadn't even allowed her the relief of the occasional movement, when he'd sat by her side and cajoled her through the ordeal, right down the last seconds. She couldn't do that for him, not at all, because his best chance lay with her out in the field.

He finds a seat, still speaking softly into his phone. A conversation with his mother and daughter, probably one of the toughest of his life…she takes a quick glance around, then strides over to him. Villante and McCord would surely need her in a second, but till then she will be there for her fiancé. Be his bulwark, be his strength. She comes up behind him and rests on hand on his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing, letting him know he isn't alone in getting through this. He looks up at her, blue eyes ever so slightly watery, and she smiles at him, trying to inject her will and her belief into it. They will get through this. They will find the antidote. There is no other option for her here.

Chatter on a new suspect pulls her away as the doctor arrives to give him another shot. She ruffles his hair before she leaves. He is not alone. He will not face this alone.

* * *

"…going to be fine."

She walks into find her two partners talking, McCord bent over, one hand on his shoulder. Lending him her support, giving him positive reinforcement. What she should be doing, really. McCord looks up at her, catches her eye and nods briefly, then leaves them alone.

"Kate." He turns to her as she strides over, need for coffee forgotten. She just wants to be near him, talk to him for a moment, crack a joke.

"Hey Castle. Dreaming up a new partner for Nikki for the next book? Blue-eyed curly-haired federal agent with a steely temper?" She leans over from her seat, scratches his knee with two lean fingers.

"No." He nods mournfully. "I already started writing up such an agent as an antagonist who hates Rook a few days ago. Now I'm confused."

"Well maybe she can switch teams halfway through, come to her senses."

"Yeah, if I'm around to write the ending." He goes for a wavering half-smile, but she sees the pain underlying, and the fear. It is getting to him now. The clock has been ticking for a while, and he's finding it harder to fight. Fine. She'll fight twice as hard for both of them. Because they are one. They're going to have a future together. She knows it.

She turns her grip tight on his upper thigh, catching his attention.

"Hey, listen to me! You will be around to write the ending. And many more besides. Nooki's story has a long way to go yet, and I wanna read all of it, OK?" She fixes him with her best steely glare, one she likes to think of as reserved especially for him.

He chuckles weakly.

"OK, don't want to disappoint my biggest fa-"

"Beckett, I got in! C'mon." Richmond interrupts their moment, dragging them back to the reality of the fight in the here and now. She keeps her fingers intertwined through his as they walk through the office. Damn any sense of propriety.

* * *

"I think I'm due for another shot." But before he can move off, she puts a hand on his forearm and drags him around the corner behind the staircase.

His expression is a mix of confusion and that put-upon brave act she's too many times before. That façade he's learned to put up to keep the world out, to project a brave for her, his mother and Alexis most of all. In a way she's touched that she's in that group now.

"Castle…" she leans up to whisper into his ear, "I'm going to take a run at the Secretary myself. See if I can shake something loose."

"Kate…are you sure?" His eyes are full of concern, but not for himself. For her. For the risk she's taking. He's an idiot. For him she'll risk everything. Her life, her career, her future. If she can get him through this, the price will have been worth it.

"Yes. And you know what? I'm not giving up, so you can't either!" She briefly, fiercely presses her lips to his, her hands on his cheek, tilting his face down and into her.

He pulls her into a hug afterwards, letting his broad arms drape over her shoulder. She knows he's seeking brief comfort in the feel of their bodies against each other, the warmth and scent of human contact. She wraps her herself around his torso, actively squeezing them together.

"Amalfi, Costa Rica or Bali." She whispers into his ear before pulling away.

It takes him a second to process and she's already walking away when he asks.

"What?"

"The honeymoon. You pick from that list." She grins briefly over her shoulder as she turns the corner towards the exit. His sort of poleaxed look is well worth it. It is the first expression that isn't concern or fear he has worn in hours.

They will win. They will get their happy ending.


	5. Home

_Futurefic drabble based on the snippet of foreshadowing in 'Time Will Tell'_

* * *

Dad's there to pick him up. The flight was exhausting, and he wasn't looking forward to getting into a cab, so it's a nice feeling. Dad is dad, always the same, that same tall, solid frame, hair a patrician grey now but those same dancing blue eyes that will always make him look younger than he is. He has inherited his father's height, can look him square in the eye unlike his sisters, but not the same broad-shouldered build. No he's lean and spare like his mother, and feels those bearlike arms wrap briefly around him in embrace.

"How was the flight?" Dad takes over the trolley wordlessly, and he allows it, letting his hands slouch into his pockets. The sun is dusky and setting as they walk back to the carpark.

"Tiring. Did finally get to finish your latest though…"

"What did you think?"

"Prefer your mystery books over serious literature myself. As long as I skip the sex scenes…"

"…point. Don't need to put you into therapy for that."

"More like I don't ever drink tequila." He shudders at the thought. He read that scene once, the first time he read his dad's work when he was 14. It hadn't struck him that he was reading about his parents' fictionalized selves till it was far too late. And scarring.

Traffic is busy, and they chit-chat about his semester abroad. Sydney had been a lot of fun, but he's too jetlagged to make any serious conversation.

"Who's at home?"

"Everybody. Your mom flew back from DC this morning, no way she was going to miss your grand homecoming. The twins are packing to go to university, you know that. Even Alexis and Dan promised to visit for dinner tonight…"

He looks over at his dad, knowing he organised this, wanted the whole family to be together one last time before his sisters left for college. A small smile steals over his face. So like dad.

"When will you and mom drive the terrible twosome up to Boston?"

"Next week. Liz starts at MIT a week earlier than Jess does at Harvard."

He shakes his head. His genius younger sisters.

"Seems so weird. Feels like just yesterday I left for college and they were still sophomores at high school."

"Yeah, my prodigal only son, escaped to Princeton and left his poor old dad all alone to deal with the women in the family."

"Oh c'mon, between Alexis and mom, you've been used to that for ages."

His dad smiles, nods in acknowledgement. They're pulling up to the large brownstone that has served as the family home ever since he can remember. He knows his parents moved there from their old loft after he was born, but honestly he can only ever remember growing up here.

As soon as he goes through the door, his mother is upon him in a flash, pulling him tight, green-hazel eyes sparkling with love. She's as lean and elegant as ever, dark brown hair curling into a bun, spilling down her neck. He'd loved to play with it as a kid, sitting on her lap as she wrote reports and helped put away bad guys in the old days. She smells like cherries, like afternoons in the park and helping him with his homework and best lasagna he's ever tasted. She smells like home. He lets his arms tighten around her briefly, pull her into him.

"Good to see you too, mom."

"Feels like you've lost weight. Have you been eating enough? What did they serve you on the flight?" She fusses over him, fingers curling around his wrist as she tugs him into the kitchen, his dad trailing behind with a bemused look on his face. And love. His parents love each other so damn much it feels ridiculous to witness sometimes.

"Yes, yes, I've been eating enough, Mom…jeez. Shouldn't you be helping run the country or something? Fixing the legal system, that kind of thing?" He teases her as he drops into a seat at the kitchen table.

"Hey, you know the rule. Senator Beckett doesn't exist inside the house." His dad chides him as he moves into the kitches, dropping a kiss gently on his mom's cheek before heading to the wine rack. "Red or white?"

"White." He doesn't specify further. Dad always has the best taste in wines.

"Kate, honey?"

"Ohh, hmm, whatever you're opening." She's concentrating on the three pots she has going on the stove. "Your sisters just ducked down the store for me, they should be back soon."

"That's cool." He closes his eyes, just soaks in the warmth and noise and the sounds of his parents, now quietly bickering about the right amount of oregano to add to the stew or something. Just soaks in the feeling of home.


	6. Sleep Tight

_Follow up to my other futurefic drabble, based off the foreshadowing/prediction in 'Time Will Tell'_

* * *

Dinner is fun, but he is so exhausted he can barely keep his eyes open over dessert. The twins are nattering on to Alexis about their plans in Boston, and their big sister (who did part of her internship after medical school in the city) is gamely trying to hold up her end of the conversation when they let her get a word in edgewise.

His parents and brother-in-law (Alexis having chosen wisely in an brilliant but erratic English Lit professor at NYU- his parents love Danny) have probably escaped to the study for a gab-fest about books and literature, and he's tempted to join them, but a sudden massive yawn reminds him bed is probably the best idea, so he makes his excuses and escapes.

His old bedroom is a guest bedroom now, but the cool blue walls are familiar and comforting nonetheless. He's just about lying down to sleep when there is a soft knock on the door.

"Hey, kiddo, you awake?"

"Come in, mom."

She smiles at him softly as she walks over to the bed, sitting down next to him, long and elegant fingers maternally brushing a lick of hair over his forehead. He lets her for a second, then pulls away.

"I'm sorry I couldn't join your father and the girls when they came out to see you in Australia. There was an emergency session of Judiciary committee and then…"

"It's OK."

"No, it isn't. My work is important, but it isn't as important as my family. I'm sorry." A genuine thread of apology winds through her words, her eyes steadily holding his, and he acknowledges it with a nod.

Silence fills the room. Not awkward, but comfortable. He is his mother's son, calm and quiet and driven. His sisters are like his father, intelligent and boisterous and more than little reckless.

"So…Castle mentioned you were seeing someone? In Sydney?" Growing up he never found his parents' use of each other's last name all that strange, but having moved out, he can hear the idiosyncrasy. He ignores it.

"Nothing serious, mom. Just…you know, a holiday thing. Casual." He shrugs, sort of embarrassed but yet not. They work in tandem, effective. Dad lets them come to him, never asks, never pushes, just lets them open up as they need. She is the interrogator, the detective, the one who pieces all the bits of the puzzle together. Secrets have always been impossible to keep in this household.

"OK."

"Besides, you and dad set us a pretty damn high standard, you know." His sisters have always been sort of embarrassed by his parents' grand love story, but he always found it entrancing, semi-mythic.

"Our story is the last one either of us want any of you to emulate, trust me." She laughs to take the sting out of her words, but her hand moves to her chest. He knows why. He pieced together the story himself as a teenager, from books and news reports and bit and pieces of information they'd just casually drop in conversation, till one day he just flat out asked his father shortly after his freshman year at university.

They'd sat down and told him the story together, alternating in turns, raw and honest for the most part. So hard to imagine his parents, his mom who'd taken him to baseball games and made him all the Halloween costumes he'd asked for and his dad who'd taught him how to fence and how to make killer cocktails and taken him to ComicCon in full cosplay…so hard to imagine them as the heroes in a tale worthy of Hollywood. Heck stranger than fiction literally (his dad's), truth be told, even as he served as part of the story.

"Yeah I could do without the shootings and bombs and definitely without the tiger…"

"Oh, I don't know, the tiger was one of the fun parts."

He rolls his eyes. Occasionally he'll see that side of her, the thrill-seeking adrenalin-junkie who was a living legend in the NYPD.

"Andrew James Castle, you did not just roll your eyes at me."

"Must be genetic." He rolls them again as he speaks but then they flutter closed before he can stop them, the jetlag hitting him like a bus.

She leans over to feather a kiss on his forehead.

"Sleep tight kiddo. I'll make you pancakes in the morning."

"G'night."

"Till tomorrow."


	7. First Step

_My take on THAT scene from 'Like Father, Like Daughter'_

* * *

The drive back from Pennsylvania is quiet. They talk about little, inconsequential things, awkwardly avoiding the topic of Pi or her living arrangements. She tells him about her classes, about the professor with the intriguingly bouffant hair that is far more captivating than the lectures. He tells her about his dreams of a wedding-in-space and how Beckett has put the kibosh on that earlier. She can't help but laugh at the image. It is why they're good together. She can't even imagine him floating the idea to any of the other women she's seen move through his- through their- lives. The anger has leached out of her over the events of the past few days. They aren't completely done rebuilding bridges yet, but they will get there, with time.

He asks her if she wants to go home first (and is sensitive enough to indicate that he means her flat), but she shakes her head. She wants to be at the precinct. Everyone there has pitched in and helped her so much, they deserve to know how thankful she is, how much she appreciated their support straight away. It is an unconventional sort of family her father has found at the precinct, but they've been there for her when she has needed it each in their own way. Lanie she called as they were driving, promising a plateful of cookies in thanks as soon she's baked them and has time to run down to the OCME after classes, for Lanie and her colleagues. In some ways, after her internship, she's closest to the ME of them all. And her admonishment over the phone over not coming to her sooner still stings somewhat.

They walk into the precinct together, but split up naturally when she moves towards the desks of detectives Ryan and Esposito to thank them first. She mentions the offer of cookies to them, but they prefer brownies. Well in her baking repertoire, she promises to deliver them by next week, and professes her thanks again for their help. Watching Frank Henson receive his freedom and embrace his brother had been one of the most uplifting things she'd ever done in her life, and it was all possible thanks to them.

It wasn't lost on her that for the first time she has had a first-person view at the kind of work her father has been doing over the last few years, and that sense of relief, elation and justice that had coursed through her in the courtroom went a long way towards explaining why he'd always come back to the precinct, even when he and Beckett were on the outs, even when she was seeing someone else- it was one thing knowing what he did made him happy and gave him satisfaction (alongside his writing), and another thing living it for the first time.

She came up to the conference room door. They were standing in each other's personal space, so close, hands almost-but-not-quite-holding, staring into each other's eyes, a goofy grin on her father's face, and similarly broad smile on Beckett's. The glow of their happiness almost radiates of them in actual waves. It is sickening and adorable all at the same time.

She knocks.

"Hey dad, can you give us a moment?" She smiles at him reassuringly as a second of anxiety washes over his face before he bows out gracefully. As much as they've patched things up in the last few days, she's still hurting from how she found out about the engagement. It is understandable that he is afraid of how she might react around Beckett.

The older woman leans back down against the desk, bringing herself to eye level as she approaches, a warm and welcoming smile on the detective's face.

"I heard you did great, Alexis."

"I'm just glad we were able to figure out the truth and save Frank. It doesn't make up for all the years he's lost in prison, but at least he gets to have a future."

"Yeah, that's always a nice feeling."

"I wanted to say thank you, for all your help from here…Kate." She's mulled over what to call her future step-mother during the car ride down, and settled on first-name basis. They'll never have a mother-daughter relationship, so this is the closeness she feels comfortable offering.

"Of course."

"No, I mean it. You were a really big part of what we pulled off down there, coming to Lanie, interviewing Mr. Henson…I should have come to you much earlier. And to Lanie too, but definitely you."

"You know, I'm always here for you Alexis. Whatever is happening between me and your dad, this is independent of that."

"I know. I'm sorry you've sort of been caught in the crossfire recently because me and dad are having…issues, but I wanted you to know that I'm glad you two are together and happy. Really it doesn't have anything to do with you."

A small, hesitant smile breaks out on Kate's face with that, a minute amount of tension leaching out of her shoulders. She's glad she can offer this small comfort to her.

"You know, Alexis, I don't talk about my mom much. But one of the things I really admired about her, I really loved about her, was that she was devoted to doing exactly the kind of thing you just did. Fighting for justice for innocent people, and bringing the truth to light. So when I say…when I say I'm proud of what you did, and admire you for it, it isn't because you are your father's daughter, in this case. It is because…" She trails off, green-hazel eyes clouding with emotion.

The words, soft and chosen carefully, mean a lot to her. More than she even realised, when a warmth settles in her stomach and spreads through her limbs. She doesn't have the words to come back to this.

So she does the only thing she can. She opens her arms and steps forward, tightly embracing Kate when she returns the hug. They separate after a moment, but it is enough.

It is a good first step on their new journey.


End file.
